


Bucky Unarmed

by StevieCass



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Implied Relationships, Insecurity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:07:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2680283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StevieCass/pseuds/StevieCass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes some time for Bucky to get used to drawing attention to himself even after he takes off his Winter Soldier outfit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucky Unarmed

**Author's Note:**

> (the glorious pun of the title was first made by the amazing [Tisha Unarmed](https://www.youtube.com/user/tishaunarmed) on YouTube. Sorry for taking advantage of it, but I just couldn't help myself.)

Bucky can get used to pretty much everything, really.

He knows he _was_ actually around for the development of the world, but he doesn’t remember it, and it’s okay. Steve’s more accustomed to the modern world than Bucky is, and he’s a good teacher. Natasha’s not so bad herself. Nobody’s judging Bucky for not knowing how to turn on and off a microwave, and their patience isn’t condescending, it’s even eager, sometimes.

He can get used to the taller buildings and the lights that never go out, and the cars that look like fucking spaceships. The Internet is so great, even though at first he thought it was some sort of prank. He tries to get used to the new fashion trends ( _“I hope that Miss Gaga person isn’t how women are forced to dress like these days, huh, Stevie?”_ )

He can get used to not carrying guns everywhere anymore. It takes him a while to stop reaching for knives and handguns that aren’t strapped on him anymore, but he’s somehow grateful when he finds nothing but jeans when he touches his thighs. He feels lighter, and not only because firearms are physically heavy.

What he _can’t_ get used to are the stares.

It’s not like he gets out much. He wants to, but the weather is getting warmer, and his right arm gets hot in long sleeves, and he’s figured that even in this crazy era, having your entire left side covered and your right completely different still attracts looks. And he can’t have that.

Natasha says he’s overreacting. “People will stare at anything,” she says. Bucky knows that’s true, but he’s still not very into the whole “going out” thing.

It’s not that he’s particularly embarrassed about his arm, or that he doesn’t like it. True, it’s a remnant of his blurry and horrifying past, and he spent a few weeks looking into what this magnificent new age had to offer on prosthetics, just in case he could get rid of it and still be functional, but it seemed they just couldn’t wait a decade more or so until they saved him. So he figured he was stuck with it, and to be honest, Steve had helped a lot with him accepting that. Sam also insisted it looked “badass”, and when Bucky figured what that meant, he had to agree.

So it’s not exactly embarrassment. It’s mostly that he doesn’t really want to be badass at all times.

He’s tried to blend in. In winter, he and Steve went out in the city, hidden under hoodies and coats, and Bucky knew Steve didn’t really need all that warm clothing – his impressive new physiology be damned – but Bucky still appreciated the gesture. They tended to just be another two faces in the crowd. People weren’t expecting that Captain fucking America and an ex-brainwashed assassin would be walking around the streets of Brooklyn eating crepes. Which was Steve’s idea. Obviously.

But now…

Bucky’s tried to go out. He’s tried the whole “not caring” attitude. But the stares were just too much for him to handle. Put one ultra-strong, extra-technologically-amazing fucking prosthetic arm on you and people can’t stop wondering what’s up with your life. A teenage girl came and asked him what he was cosplaying as, and he had to turn to Natasha for an explanation, and things got bad from there. But most people didn’t seem interested in asking; they probably preferred to make their own assumptions. And Bucky just got pissed.

So it really is better for everyone if he just stays at home, catching up on everything he’s missed.

The others – well, those that aren’t avoiding him – are constantly trying to make him go out, enjoy his second chance. Well, those aren’t their exact words, but Bucky knows what they mean. He’s young (sort of), he’s in one of the greatest cities in the world (or so they say), he’s got all the money he can ask for (seriously, how isn’t Tony Stark bankrupt yet?), and all he does is stay inside a badly air-conditioned apartment, watching four movies a day (and still doubting he’ll ever manage to catch up on modern cinema). Natasha calls him every second day. Once, Sam came through his fucking _window_ to change his mind. That Clint guy has made too many nesting comments and he doesn’t even get the irony in that. And with every try, Bucky gets even more determined to never leave this place until there isn’t a single person wearing tank tops outside.

It takes a few weeks of summer and avoiding sunlight and sweating in front of a fan for Steve to come and stand in front of Bucky, his arms crossed on his ridiculously bulky chest. Yeah, Bucky is still often surprised by that.

“You’re blocking the wind,” Bucky says, not moving an inch.

“That’s no wind, that’s the most miserable fan I’ve ever seen,” Steve says.

“You probably didn’t see that guy climbing on the tower and asking for Stark’s autograph last week, then.”

Steve thinks about it. “Okay, the _second_ most miserable fan I’ve ever seen. You can’t keep doing that. You need to go outside. You love outside.”

“I’m okay.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “Scoot,” he says, and Bucky groans, but he moves so Steve can throw himself on the couch next to him.

“All right, then,” Steve says. “What do you wanna do?”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “You gave up that easily?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can’t win this one. You’re not the Summer Soldier, anyway.”

“ _Please_ don’t.”

“No, no, we’ll just wait for winter. So, what do you wanna do? I can go rent a movie. Or I can ask Stark for some kind of game console or something, Clint’s been bugging me to learn how to use one of those for months now. We can order food. And ask Stark for a proper air conditioning unit, while we’re at it.”

Bucky stares at him. He’s not mocking him, damn him. He’s not even trying to make him feel bad. He’s just… being Steve. Fucking _Steve_.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Bucky says. He wasn’t exactly expecting this. “I actually learned how to download movies, so we’ll be fine. Look, you can leave if you want, I’m doing okay. You don’t have to stay inside just because –“

“Shut up.”

“Don’t you tell me to shut up, Stevie.”

“Then don’t try to kick me out.”

Bucky gives in. They watch _Back to the Future._ Then they watch _The Lion King,_ just because Steve likes it. They order food, and they unexpectedly shamelessly gossip about the events inside Stark Tower, like schoolgirls. Steve stays for the night. It’s the most fun Bucky’s had in weeks.

The next day starts the same way: Steve asks what is it that Bucky wants to do. Bucky doesn’t have any special ideas. Steve doesn’t protest. He makes food himself and goes through a _Star Wars_ marathon with Bucky. The third day goes pretty much the same way. Food, movies, a visit to the gym downstairs, and that’s all.

It goes on like this for about a week. And Bucky thinks that having Steve cooped up in an apartment is just fucking _sad._

In the eighth day, Steve asks again.

“What do you wanna do?”

Bucky sighs. “I don’t know. I wanna try something else. Can we go get breakfast somewhere?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking sure. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Steve smiles, but he doesn’t comment. Well, what did he think? Bucky doesn’t like seeing him staying inside all day just for his sake. He puts on a jacket and shoves his hands in his pockets. Steve doesn’t say anything. He leads him to a small place that apparently makes great English breakfasts, and damn if Bucky doesn’t deserve some luxury. He’s sweating like a pig while they’re eating, but he doesn’t take his jacket off, and he’s sitting with his left side shadowed by the inside of his booth. Nobody looks at him twice. He feels peaceful, and even spontaneously laughs a few times. Steve’s smile gets wider, but he doesn’t make a comment. He knows Bucky too well.

They get back to the apartment after that, still in the mood for movies. Bucky lets Steve choose again.

The next day, Bucky wants to try something different. Steve suggests a big diner that Natasha claims has the best pancakes in the Western world. It’s a long walk, but Bucky’s glad to be moving a bit again, even if his arm feels like fire against his skin, despite the denim between his arm and the direct sunlight. Still, nobody looks at them twice. Bucky half-expects people to jump at them from every corner, but nothing happens. It’s like they’re not who they are, it’s like Captain America is only _Captain America_ when he has his costume on, Bucky thinks as they’re waiting in line for their coffee. It’s like he’s not the Winter Soldier anymore just because he’s hidden the metal arm that made him so recognizable. Damn, people are so into details these days.

The girl behind the counter gives him his cup and he takes it with his left hand, just fucking _because_. She doesn’t notice anything at first, and it takes her a second before she takes a second look. Bucky’s already moving past her when he hears something like “that was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen” from behind him. Steve starts a random conversation about how he’d sell his soul for a chance to play baseball in an empty car lot, and Bucky just goes along with it. They agree on convincing the others to come along and play with them on Friday, as long as Tony doesn’t show up in costume. They don’t even watch a movie the rest of the day; they just try to catch up with music trends and talk about baseball games that even history itself has forgotten.

The third day they try a small place that only offers food and coffee to go. Bucky hold his coffee in his left hand again. He gets some stares, not too many. He realizes he doesn’t care that much. He and Steve take a walk across the streets, not really talking, just… existing around other people. It’s still warm, and Bucky rolls up his jacket’s sleeves. People are still looking every now and then. He tries moving his arm so it reflects sunlight in their eyes a few times, and he immediately feels a lot more satisfied.

It’s Friday, and Steve and Bucky are alone at the park. The others skipped the whole baseball thing, and it’s just the two of them now, along with a bat, a glove, and a ball. It’ll have to do. They start playing casually, just enough for them to make a sight out of themselves by being two grown men laughing like children _among actual children._ Bucky dares anyone to come and say anything at them. They were too young when they had to stop behaving like kids, and if he can get a taste of his childhood back, he’ll take it, thanks very much.

It’s still hard for him to move around with his jacket on, and he’s started to feel like he’s boiling inside his clothes. Steve just throws the ball at him, pretending he doesn’t notice. Some kids are gathered round, and a few parents, too. Bucky looks at Steve, and he only gets a smile in response. That goddamn easy smile that hasn’t changed at all. And, let’s be honest, how many things haven’t? That’s what makes it so special.

And as for all the things that _have_ changed… to hell with them. Yeah, Bucky’s been a lot of things he didn’t want to be, and has done a lot of things he’s grateful he doesn’t remember. What he _does_ remember is Steve’s fucking smile, and that’s been the same no matter what, and no assassins or secret agents or super-secret missions or terrorist organizations could change that. Least of all, a goddamn metal arm.

Bucky takes off his jacket, and barely even notices the kids around him suddenly pointing and talking loudly. Steve’s smile has gotten wider, and well, that’s the only thing that matters.

That and the smile on his own face.


End file.
